


The Price of the Prize

by VioletBlue



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Open Relationships, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, peter grows a moral compass, very slowly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletBlue/pseuds/VioletBlue
Summary: "And now it was all coming to a head, in a way beyond Peter’s wildest dreams. In a few short minutes, Neal Caffrey would become the legal property of Peter Burke."Peter Burke gets everything he ever wished for when he captures Neal Caffrey and, as is the law, gets to keep him for his own.But he may soon find everything he ever wished for is a lot more complicated than he ever could have guessed.Aka a White Collar slavery fic where Neal struggles, Peter is forcefed a moral compass, and Elizabeth is just very chill.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW: mentions of past abuse and rape, dubious conset bordering on non-con

“Alright, I’ll just need two initials here and here, and a signature, and he’s all yours, Mr. Burke,” the legal assistant said.

Agent Peter Burke signed off with a flourish, the heady feeling of victory rushing through his veins. Three years of his life devoted to tracking this man down and making sure he paid for his crimes. Six weeks of watching him secured away in prison, knowing he’d never con anyone else ever again. And now it was all coming to a head, in a way beyond Peter’s wildest dreams. In a few short minutes, Neal Caffrey would become the legal property of Peter Burke.

“Excellent, I’ll just take these, and Agent Rice will be here in a moment to go over the details and give you Mr. Caffrey.” The assistant gave Peter a beaming smile and then went behind the desk.

Mr. Caffrey, given to him. All his. It was Christmas morning.

Agent Rice strode out almost immediately. She reached out her hand to Peter and shook it firmly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Agent Burke. I’m so impressed by your work. I have to say, Caffrey cost the department a whole lot of money when he was out there wreaking havoc, and in the past few months he’s almost made it all up.” She laughed loudly and Peter joined in, although he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant.

She must have sensed it, because she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “He was very popular in the service prison. We were able to charge a couple hundred dollars for a session with him, and keep him busy all day.”

“Oh that’s… yeah, very good,” Peter said haltingly. 

He’s a thief and a liar, Peter reminded himself. He deserves everything he’s gotten, and everything he’s about to get. 

Neal wasn’t looking his best when they dragged him in by his cuffed hands. The bright white jumpsuit washed him out, his hair was overgrown, and there was a brilliant shiner on his left eye. 

Unfortunately, Neal looking not his best was still more attractive than any other person Peter had ever seen. He cleared his throat when Neal shot him a cocky wink and hurriedly turned away. 

“Mind if I have a minute alone?” Peter asked mildly. 

“Of course,” she said, leering. “C’mon, boys, let’s give Agent Burke and his new toy a little privacy.”

She slapped Neal’s ass on the way out the door. His jaw tightened but he didn’t flinch.

“So, Burke. Congratulations.” Neal’s voice was surprisingly hoarse. “Game, point, match.” 

“You won’t be escaping this one, Caffrey,” Peter said, smiling broadly and allowing the heady feeling of victory to rush over him again.

“Oh, I probably could,” Neal said, twisting his wrists within his cuffs. “Doesn’t mean I should, I’m not an idiot. I know you’d catch up with me eventually. But if you fuck with me too badly, Burke, I will run.”

“Oh no you don’t,” barked Peter. He strode up to the cuffed man and poked him hard in the chest. “Not this time. This time you aren’t going anywhere. Not on my watch.”

Neal didn’t break eye contact. 

“Things I will run away for,” Neal said as calmly as if Peter had never spoken. “One, being made to serve a ton of strangers. I get that you will probably want to share me around the office, but I will not be the centerpiece of your and Elizabeth’s house parties. One or two is fine.” He held up another finger, awkwardly as his hands were cuffed together. “Two, ignoring my safeword. Don’t worry, I don’t bring it out unless I’m fairly certain you are going to actually kill me. And three, punishing me by refusing me food or water. I’m pretty good at taking a beating, but I really hate being hungry.” 

He flashed one of his brilliant smiles.

Luckily, Peter’s work had trained him not to let his emotions show on his face, so he was fairly confident Neal didn’t pick up on the shock and borderline horror he was feeling. Although there were rumors that prisoners were occasionally punished a little too severely, he never would have guessed they were denied food or water. 

“Good at taking a beating, got it,” Peter said, making his voice as hard as possible. If Caffrey detected even a hint of weakness, he would make a break for it. And Peter needed to prove he was man enough for the job of containing one of the most brilliant and desirable criminals the world had ever seen. 

But first, he had to make sure his wife approved. 

“Rice, get back in here and take him out to the car, I need to make a call,” he barked. He turned his back on Neal as he pulled out his cell. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn, not even when Neal exhaled harshly indicating the guards pulling him away had decided to motivate him to move with their fists. 

“It’s today,” he said as soon as Elizabeth answered, trying to sound professional, not giddy. The office door slammed, leaving Peter alone. “The paperwork went through. I can take him home tonight.” 

There was a long pause. 

“So, he’s going to be in our house?” Elizabeth asked. “And you’ll be sleeping with him?”

“Well, you can sleep with him too,” Peter said quickly. “The place he was in supposedly trained him for both men and women. He’s expecting to be shared.”

He heard her skeptical sigh. “This is all very weird, Peter, but I guess I signed up for weird when I married you. You have fun tonight, I think I’m gonna spend the night at Vera’s after the art show downtown.”

Peter opened his mouth in panic and protest – no matter how much Neal meant to him, his marriage meant more. If Elizabeth was unhappy, that was a dealbreaker. But Elizabeth spoke again before he had the chance to, solidifying the very real possibility she was a mindreader.

“It’s fine, Peter, honestly. I know we discussed this a million times. I just don’t think a sexual relationship with Neal is right for me, at least not at first. But I know how much this means to you, and I want you to do whatever makes you happy.”

Damn. Peter really, really didn’t deserve his wife.

“Thanks, hon,” he said. “It just really feels like it’s all finally paid off, you know?” 

“I know, babe,” she said, and he could almost hear the fond eye roll through the phone. “Don’t let him steal the good china. He can definitely take that ottoman your mom gave us though.” 

“Very funny,” Peter muttered. He could see Neal being loaded into the car through the window of the front office. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a hot criminal to subdue.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: dubcon, noncon

The car ride to Burke house was uneventful. Probably because Neal was not only handcuffed but also gagged and blindfolded in the backseat, but still. Nice to have the first hour of ownership go by smoothly. 

That night, after Peter had fitted on the ankle tracker and given Neal the full force of his intimidating rundown on not escaping, he took his time enjoying his prize. He loved how Neal was silent and supple under his hands. He loved the way that beautiful tanned body arched and twisted as he ground it into the sheets. He loved the sound of Neal’s ragged breathing as he grabbed his hair, pushed his face into the mattress and fucked him hard. 

Afterwards, Peter stared up at the ceiling, breathless and sated. Neal was face down beside him, quietly rustling the sheets. Peter turned his head and saw that Neal was subtly jerking himself off. Huh. Was that allowed? Was Peter supposed to make sure he finished? Or maybe he was supposed to forbid it. Peter actually had no idea what the proper etiquette was surrounding legal sexual property. He would have to read up. For the moment, he let Neal finish up himself before reaching over and grabbing Neal’s chin, earning a quick, pained intake of breath.

“You’re mine now, you understand?” he said, pulling Neal’s chin up so that his throat was exposed.

“Yes, sir,” Neal said. His voice was calm, but when he met Peter’s gaze his eyes were icy.

The next morning, Elizabeth flung open the bedroom door and smiled at the sight of the two men tangled up in the sheets. Peter had his boxers and sleep shirt on, but Neal was completely naked save for the bulky, blinking ankle tracker. Elizabeth ran her hand over Neal’s smooth hip and was rewarded with a sleepy, but still somehow cheeky, smile.

“Good thing you didn’t end up catching that little bald guy, this is a much prettier picture,” she grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed and passing Peter his macchiato. “So, pretty boy. Are you going to strangle my husband in his sleep?”

“I think the more apt question is will your husband strangle me?” Neal said, turning over and letting his stare bore into Elizabeth. He lifted his chin, and it’s possible that the faint marks of Peter’s hands were still on his skin. Hey, it’s not Peter’s fault he forgets his own strength. 

Elizabeth fidgeted a little on the bed. 

“My husband is not that kind of person,” she said simply. She raised her eyebrows at Peter. “And if he forgets that, you talk to me.”

Peter choked on his macchiato and felt a chill go down his spine, thoroughly dampening his post-conquest morning glow.

“I wouldn’t strangle him,” he protested indignantly, “Maybe some bondage or something, but nothing crazy.” 

“Yes, nothing crazy like taking a sex slave,” Neal deadpanned pleasantly. “May I take a shower, please, sir?”

Peter spluttered and Elizabeth let out a low whistle. 

“Ooh, I like him,” she declared. “Go get cleaned up. Don’t touch the purple shower gel, that’s mine.”

Neal grinned at her and scrambled off the bed, giving Peter a mocking bow before heading off to the bathroom. 

“He’ll certainly keep you on your toes,” Elizabeth said, giving her husband a fond shove. 

“I think he’s actually taking it rather well,” Peter said, frowning. 

“Well, you always were fooled by charm, baby,” Elizabeth said, sighing and staring at the door where the shower had started. “Charm can hide a lot.”

Peter slammed the rest of his coffee and headed down to make breakfast, trying to shake his wife’s disappointed gaze and muttering under his breath. So domestic life with a captured criminal wasn’t as straightforward as he’d hoped. Surely work would be more simple. 

Right?

Neal would be working alongside him as a consultant, using that crafty brain for good for once in his life. The paperwork was all finalized, there was an extra desk shoved in his office, and his coworkers had all been briefed… so Peter was a little surprised by the sheer amount of staring when he walked in with Neal by his side. 

Tall, gorgeous, fitted with an electric shock ankle bracelet, a fading bruise on his face… Neal didn’t exactly blend in with the crowd. And although all he did was stare straight ahead with an expression of blank politeness, there were still jeers and wolf-whistles as he walked past.

“Good job, man, you landed a real pretty one,” some asshole Peter didn’t even know smirked, running his fingers over Neal’s bicep as he passed by them in the hall. 

“Hey, don’t touch him,” Peter protested half-heartedly. 

“Jealous, huh?” The guy rolled his eyes and kept walking. 

Neal stared straight ahead, his lips thinning a bit. Diana chose that moment to pop out of her office and greet the new arrival. 

“The great Neal Caffrey, reduced to Burke’s boy toy,” she said, running her eyes up and down Neal’s frame. “You gave us quite a chase. I thought this day would never come. Been looking forward to it a long time.”

“I don’t think Peter’s the sharing kind, if that’s what you’re looking forward to,” Neal said with a smile, though his eyes flashed.

“You’re really not my type,” Diana said, winking at Peter.

“Well thank God,” Neal said. “At least there’s one person in this office I don’t have to worry about accosting me.”

Peter felt an odd shudder at those words, and hurriedly shook the feeling away. 

“C’mon, Neal, I’ve got half a dozen cases I want your eyes on by lunch.”

Sure, it was a weird situation, but Peter knew how to adapt. Adaptation was the key to survival. 

So they settled into a rhythm. Cases during the day. At night, Peter set Neal up with a book or a legal article to read. No internet, not yet. Not until Peter could trust him. Occasionally, if Elizabeth was out they watched old reruns of MASH.

But Peter always found an excuse not to touch Neal. He was too tired, or he’d drank too much wine, or they had an early morning. They still shared a bed, and Neal was still the most perfect-looking person on the planet. But there something unsettling in the way Neal stared up at the ceiling at night while waiting for Peter to make a move, sneaking wary glances at his owner. Peter knew it was his legal right to Neal’s body, but still, it just made him feel clammy to picture rolling Neal over and claiming what was his the way he did that first night. So he took lots of cold showers and tried very hard not to think about that aspect of their arrangement. 

He learned things about Neal. He learned what kind of wine he liked, that a gym membership was essential, that he was full of bleak humor with a desperate edge when he was in a bad mood, and quiet and thoughtful when he was a good one. 

Those were all little things, picked up over dinner and commutes and watching Neal stare out the window during lunch breaks. It wasn’t until the end of the summer that he learned a real lesson.

Fowler was a dick. Peter could see that right off, and from the way Neal was tense and silent beside him in meetings, he could tell that Neal could see that too. 

But he didn’t realize just how big of dick, until just before the end of the Friday of a long week. All Peter was thinking about was an evening of watching TV and eating take-out with Neal and Elizabeth. Indian, maybe? Or they could try that new Thai place?

He was brought back to earth by the sound of Fowler’s grating voice.

“Mind if I borrow this one for a bit?” Fowler asked smugly. He clapped his hands on Neal’s shoulders and squeezed, and Peter could see Neal stiffen from across the room. He hesitated, watching the way Neal’s jaw clenched as he stared blankly at the wall. 

“Is something wrong, Agent Burke?” Fowler said, some coldness creeping into his voice. It was not protocol to deny a superior officer access to a collared criminal. Fowler would be within his rights to call for investigation of mismanaged government property, a ‘lack of transparency’ in the way Peter was handling Neal, unless he let him do what he wanted. That was just the rules.

“It’s no problem,” Peter said with an easy smile that didn’t match the uneasiness he felt. “My office has very concealing blinds.”

“I’ll bet it does,” Fowler said with a laugh. “Can’t spend all day looking at that mouth and not want to use it once or twice.” He led Neal out of the room, with his hand still in a vice grip on his shoulder. Neal studiously avoided eye contact with anyone in the room, which was just as well – most of them were openly leering.

Peter was distracted the rest of the meeting, until twenty minutes later when Fowler yelled a goodbye from the hallway, sounding very pleased indeed. He gave Neal a shove and the man stumbled into the conference room. 

“You’re crying,” Diana smirked. 

“Tears are a physiological response to a lack of oxygen,” Neal muttered. His face was flushed, his voice was hoarse, and his hair was a complete mess. It was a different look on a man who was usually polished to perfection. Peter knew he hated being even the littlest bit disheveled. 

“Permission to clean myself up?” he asked in a gritted-teeth monotone that seemed more akin to a threat than a question. 

“Granted,” Peter grunted. 

Neal spun around and headed towards the bathroom.

“Jesus, you should facefuck him at work more often,” Diana said. “He gets a lot less mouthy. Get it? Mouthy.”

“Very funny, Di,” Peter said rolling his eyes, hoping that his disgust was interpreted as purely at the pun and not at all at the sight of Neil: red-eyed and miserable, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, as if trying to grab on to something that kept slipping away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) :) :)


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Neal was quiet. No smartass remarks, no criticisms of the wine, no backtalk. It was unfortunate, because Peter’s brain was buzzing with about fifty things to say, but he just couldn’t bring himself to break the silence. 

Not until after dinner, when Elizabeth, sensing the tension, went to bed early. Then Neal sighed and let his head rest on his palms, slumping into the couch, the first break in his composure all evening. 

Peter jumped on it. 

“Neal, I want to apologize for what happened in the office today. Fowler is an arrogant fool, and I wasn’t aware that he’d try something like that.” 

Neal grunted, not moving his head from his hands. 

“I mean, I didn’t even know he was into men.... he’s never talked about it before…” 

Neal’s grunt was louder this time. And it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. 

“Excuse me?” Peter said sharply. How was now the time to laugh?

Neal looked up, an expression Peter had never seen on his face. He looked halfway between bitter amusement and purest rage.

“You know, I was glad when I saw you were attracted to me, when they brought me out the first time. You couldn’t stop staring. I was so relieved. It’s always better when people fuck me because they are sexually attracted.” His gaze bored into Peter like an icepick. “Because I guarantee you Fowler didn’t pull that stunt because he liked my pretty eyes. He did it because he could. It’s a power trip, for guys like him. Someone they can hurt who can’t hurt them back. A body where they can take out their anger and insecurity. It makes them feel bigger.”

“I…” Peter trailed off. Saying ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem like enough.

“It’s fine,” Neal said abruptly. “I just… got too comfortable. I forgot. It had been a while. But it’s what I’m here for, right? Justice and law and order and all that. Just sucking cock to be a contributing member of society. I know my place. Sir.” 

It was Peter’s turn to make a non-committal grunt. He believed in justice, and in law and order, of course he did. He’d dedicated his life to upholding the law, enforcing punishments and making the streets safer.

So why was Neal - a criminal, a hopeless case, finally corralled where he belonged - making him feel so shitty?

“You can work from home tomorrow,” he offered before he quite knew what he was saying. “I’ll configure your anklet to stay within the house. Elizabeth leaves for that big art sale in Hanover tomorrow morning. If you know, you wanted some time alone.”

Neal looked up with genuine surprise in his face. It was the first time Peter had left him alone since he met him. 

“If you run, I’ll kick your ass to Sunday,” Peter said quickly before Neal got any ideas. 

“I believe you,” Neal said, his eyes flicking to Peter’s hands. Hands that had once held Neal down while Peter fucked him, bruised his face while Peter threatened him. 

A wave of nausea swept Peter. “Sleep on the couch,” he barked, before turning and practically running upstairs. 

It wasn’t until next morning, after a ragged sleepless night, that the plan started to form in Peter’s mind. 

“Look over the briefs I left in the dining hall, and I want an analysis of the Hindman case by the end of the day,” Peter said, as Neal eyed him warily. The man dressed in a full suit, even for his work from home day. Peter hid his smile.

“Get your ankle up here, I need to manually reprogram the tracker,” Peter continued, waving his hand impatiently. Neal frowned a little, but carefully set his foot on the side table. Peter pulled up the starched pant leg and fiddled with the device. 

“Alright, you have no more than a block radius from this house before that thing lights up. And trust me, the electric shock is not something you want to experience.”

Neal huffed a small, dry laugh. “I’m very aware, Peter. A demonstration of what would happen if we disobeyed was lesson number one in the service prison. I couldn’t walk right for a day and a half.”

Peter tried not to let his anger show on his face, but privately he was already writing an email in his head to Agent Rice. Or maybe just dreaming up ways to get her fired. 

“Okay, well you know not to repeat it,” was all he said out loud. “That too tight?”

“It’s fine, mom,” Neal said, looking down, amused.

“Shut up,” growled Peter. “Remember, end of day, Hindman case. If it’s not done, you’re spending all of tomorrow in Diana’s office scanning those archives.”

Neal pulled a face and waved Peter out the door. As if they did this all the time. As if this wasn’t the first time Peter was leaving his legal property alone and unattended. 

Except, he was attending to Neal. He was attending very closely. 

As soon as he got into his office and closed those damn blinds, he pulled up the audio feed of the chip he had just implanted in Neal’s tracker. Whatever the man got up to in his newly freed-up time, Peter would hear it. 

And for once, he wasn’t expecting the worst of the serial criminal. Well, maybe he was. This was Neal Caffrey after all. But he was allowing Neal a choice. And he was damned curious what Neal would do with that. 

That old feeling was in his gut, half jittery nerves, half eager anticipation. The same feeling he used to get chasing Caffrey. Except now he already had Caffrey, bound to his living room. He was anticipating something else, as he listened to the grumble of his kitchen’s coffee maker and the shuffling of papers through his tinny desktop speakers. 

He was waiting to see if Neal made a choice that proved he belonged in the position society had forced him into... or if he made a choice that proved he might just deserve more than to be a body and brain used by others.

The audio feed was boring until lunchtime. Some coughs, another pot of coffee being brewed, more paper rustling, the impossibly loud crinkling of a potato chip bag (Neal only pretended that he was healthy until he was alone, apparently). One truly exceptional bout of show tune singing that left Peter utterly floored. 

And then, at 1:00 pm on the dot, the doorbell. 

Peter wasn’t expecting any deliveries. 

He heard a pause, then the creak of Neal opening the front door. A beat of silence. 

“Mozzie,” Neal’s voice was flat and low, impossible to read. He said the strange word again. “Mozzie. My god.” 

Was it some kind of criminal code word?

“Nice suit,” said a nasally voice. 

Neal laughed with a twinge of something ugly lurking at the edges. “Turns out I wasted all that time chasing a life of luxury. All I had to do was become a kept boy for the top of the FBI food chain.”

The nasally voice made a strangled noise. 

“Stop talking like that, Neal, I hate it. So, what’s the plan?” the voice lowered to conspiratorial whisper, but the FBI-grade speaker still picked up on it. “Pull another Madrid? Or were you thinking something a little more subtle? I’m happy to kidnap the wife if you want, he seems very attached.”

“Jesus, Mozzie, we’re in broad daylight,” Neal hissed, and Peter leaned closer to his monitor, his ear nearly touching the speaker. “They know their neighbors.” 

“And I am Mrs. Burke’s lovely cribbage partner, who got my days mixed up and nonetheless will be quickly be ushered in by Mrs. Burke’s charming and obedient collared criminal for a nice glass of lemonade.” The voice erupted in a rather manic laugh.

Neal swore colorfully, and there was the sound of the door slamming closed. Peter listened breathlessly for a few moments, and was just about to slump back in his seat when The Voice, much louder and closer than before, exclaimed cheerily, “Oh hooray, they have the good prosciutto.”

Peter jumped, nearly knocking over his pen tray. There was a strange man in his kitchen, and he was in the charcuterie.

He was going to kill Neal. 

“I’m going to kill you, Moz,” Neal growled. 

“Look, it’s not my fault the asshole waited seven weeks to leave you alone. I almost got to you in that stupid Whole Foods but you missed my bird call. You’re getting dull in captivity. Like a… like a listless tiger.”

“I am not a listless tiger,” Neal spat out. 

“So then what is the plan?” the voice named Mozzie pressed, and Peter could only assume the slightly garbled quality of his words was because he had a mouthful of Peter’s food. 

Neal sighed. “I don’t think there is one.” His voice was quiet, thrumming with a quiet ache Peter had never heard before. 

Mozzie’s voice reached a previously unheard level of shrillness. “You’re trying to tell me you’re content being A WHORE OF THE MAN.”

“Peter’s attractive, he barely touches me, he’s not into any weird shit, and his wife isn’t jealous,” Neil’s voice was detached-sounding, though it wavered slightly on the next sentence. “I hate to break it to you, Moz, but being the suit’s whore is probably just about the best deal I’m gonna get.”

There was another pause. A long one. 

When the voice spoke again it was almost unbearably tender.

“You don’t mean that, Neal. I know they hurt you, badly. But there’s always a better deal.”

“I’ll see you around, Moz.” Neal’s voice sounded worn, a piece of fabric barely holding together.

When the door closed again, it was a soft click, not a slam. 

There was silence on the speaker for the rest of the afternoon. Peter straightened up from his hunched position, feeling like he’d just aged about a decade in that fifteen minute conversation. 

Neal hadn’t tried to escape, or kidnap, or steal, or bribe. He had passed the test.

So why did Peter feel like he was the one who failed?


End file.
